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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29229693">under the stars, quietly</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyssa_kei/pseuds/lyssa_kei'>lyssa_kei</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arranged Marriage, Childhood Friends, Communication, Crown Prince!Red, Friends to Enemies (? it's one-sided lmao) to Hopefuls, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Prince!Green, Trauma, royal au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:47:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29229693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyssa_kei/pseuds/lyssa_kei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“We never dance here,” Green says, voice strangled. They’re not even on the dance floor. </p><p>Red just tilts his head, still waiting, and Green feels like he’s drowning.</p><p> </p><p>or, after years of running away from an arranged marriage with who used to be his best friend, green finally decides to try.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ookido Green | Blue Oak/Red</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>under the stars, quietly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>my first fic for this fandom, please be kind :))</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The party is glamorous, as always.</p><p>Gold drips from everything the sunset touches on, blazing over the ballroom through the glass walls on the far side of the floor and lighting the precious jewel ornaments aflame. Music is swelling, people are dancing and laughing, and Green feels as out of place as ever.</p><p>For all people say about how dramatic he is, parties have never quite been his preferred scene, even back home. They require too much acting, too much sweet-talk. Too much of the stilted, double-edged language of nobles that Green had grown to detest more and more over the years. And yet, he can’t leave.</p><p>Bored and already exhausted, Green considers taking a flute from one of the passing servers’ champagne trays, but decides against it for now. Alcohol provides a nice distraction, but he can't afford that here. </p><p>Trying not to grit his teeth, Green checks the time.</p><p>Late. </p><p>As always. What had he been expecting?</p><p><br/>---</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>When Green is two years old, he meets a neighboring kingdom’s prince for the first time. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He remembers nothing of the experience, of course, but his mother used to tell him before she died that he’d been enamoured with the baby prince. Babbling, barely old enough for a coherent word here and there, Green had supposedly fallen in love with the newborn, and as months passed, amused parents watched as the baby looked up at the older with stars in his eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And maybe it’s true, though he doubts it. Green will never find out for sure, but he does know that ever since he could remember, part of his life had revolved around a younger boy with crimson eyes and jet black hair. Even before he knew it, even when he convinced himself at age nine that he hated him, even when he didn’t want it to be. For years and years.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Part of his life has never truly been his.</em>
</p><p><br/>---</p><p><br/>For what it’s worth, though, Green’s mostly made his peace with it. </p><p>Arranged marriages are more common than not for people like him, and it’s not really any single person’s fault that he’s in this position. It’d taken a long time, and a lot of regrettable words and actions against a lot of people in his life, but he’s come to accept it. If he can’t serve his kingdom as a ruler, making alliances and spreading roots elsewhere is the least he can do.</p><p>Green disguises a sigh as a slow exhale and glances up at movement in his peripheral vision.</p><p>What he sees makes him tense slightly, swallowing unconsciously.</p><p>There’s a high platform above the ground-level entrance of the ballroom, connected to the dance floor by stairs coming down either side. It’s reserved for the royal family only, and two guards flank either side of the golden doors, a precaution not spared for those coming in through the archway below. </p><p>Right now, there are only two members of the royal family left alive, and Green knows even before the guard opens his mouth who it is.</p><p>Late by an hour. Maybe he’s going for a new record.</p><p>“Crown Prince Red,” the guard announces, and a reverent hush spreads through the entire room. The orchestra stops for a moment, the dances pause, Green stiffens. Everyone turns to look up towards the entrance above the stairs. And Green watches, nails digging into his palms, as the guards open the door, a familiar figure stepping through them.</p><p>White suit, embellished with gold and rubies, scarlet cape billowing with every movement. Everything about him demands attention and respect, and it’s given. All heads in the room incline into bows and curtsies, paying due respect to the crown prince of the kingdom. All except Green’s.</p><p>He doesn’t really need to, anyway.</p><p><br/>---</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Insecurity, passion, and an insatiable hunger for the world should be a known recipe for disaster.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>By the time Green is ten, he is a raging cocktail of everything he wants to be, and everything he couldn’t ever dream of being. It gets worse, though, when he finds out that his future has already been promised to his best friend.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>These are the facts, laid out plainly: Their parents decided on their betrothal before either of them were born. They were great friends when they were younger, and thus solidified their parents’ decision on the matter. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And, important: Green is not crown prince. Red is. Green’s grandfather, the current king, thinks much more highly of Red than him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Desperation now the only thing running through Green’s veins, he opts for the only path he thinks will lead to freedom.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Make Red hate him, so he won’t want him.</em>
</p><p><br/>---</p><p><br/>It’s just that maybe, along the way, things became too twisted.</p><p>Piercing red eyes meet his own, over the sea of nobles. There’s a raised hand, a soft word that lifts the crowd, their eyes following silent movements down the stairs. Then everyone parts, making way for the scarlet-clad prince as he walks over straight to Green, and only then does Green dip a laughable excuse of a bow - a short, perfunctory nod, utterly unbefitting as a greeting to the crown prince.</p><p>Red, though, as always, doesn’t care. He reaches for Green’s hand, Green raises it without question, letting him lean down and press a fleeting kiss to his knuckles. They both ignore the predictable whispers that ripple through the crowd. No matter how often they see this, it always seems to shock Red’s nobles that their mighty hero lowers his head to a foreign prince in his own castle. Nevermind that Green is his betrothed, has been their entire lives.</p><p>“I apologize,” Red murmurs when he straightens, quiet enough that only they can hear. “I wasn’t early enough to escort you.”</p><p>It’s not anything new, but Red has always apologized for it once he arrives. It’s not a good look for Green, after all, that he’s been left to enter a party alone in his fiance’s castle. Rumors spread like wildfire among the nobles, and nothing piques the interest of the elite more than the state of their crown prince’s engagement, and by extension, the alliance between their kingdoms. There will always be talk of their private relations. Whispers of affairs or concubines either of them might have. Gossip of how horrible Green must be to make their crown prince, who has tamed monsters and dragons and loved the unthinkable, recoil from him.</p><p>Green’s lost count of how many times Red has kissed the back of his hand in apology for this. He always makes sure it’s in front of the nobles, probably to help Green save face at least a little, but he also never makes much of an effort to seek him out earlier either. It’s impossible to tell whether he means it or not, so Green resorts to the same response he’s always given.</p><p>“Not at all, prince.”</p><p>This response is chosen for a reason. Red’s brows always furrow just slightly at the formal title, something Green thinks is hilarious considering Red never addresses Green by anything at all. Hasn’t for over a decade now.</p><p>But, like all other things in regards to their relationship, Red doesn’t dwell. He inclines his head to Green just once, then sweeps away to do whatever he’d been forced to throw this party for. </p><p>Green holds back a sigh as he watches a bubble of desperate nobles forms around Red as soon as he's far enough. </p><p>There is a pattern to their interactions in formal settings that hasn’t changed in years, and he can match almost every moment of tonight's party to an accurate beat of the cycle.</p><p>Red comes in late as usual, apologizes for not escorting Green, and then leaves him alone again to tolerate the nobles by himself for a few hours. Green has to watch him from a corner of the ballroom, chatting every now and then to an acquaintance or two but always keeping an eye out for if Red gets too antsy and impatient under the spotlight. Later, once festivities are over, Red will find him and walk him to his room.</p><p>It's a strange thing. Green has never felt at home here, in this castle, but this routine of theirs has settled so deeply into his bones that he could almost delude himself into being comforted by the predictability of it all.</p><p>Then again, Green realizes, he’ll have to call it home soon.</p><p><br/>---</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>“Let go of me.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The words are hissed into the space between them - Green, furious, and Red, looking somewhat disheveled. Green, backed into a corner of the corridor, Red, holding onto his arm with a wild desperation. They’re fifteen and thirteen each, confused and scared and unwilling to admit either.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Red does not let go.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I said -” Green starts to shout, but his voice comes out breaking between syllables. With the words collapsing, he does as well, sagging into the rough cut stones of the wall behind him, hands fisted in Red’s shirt. He’s not sure what’s holding him up, not sure why the ground is blurring beneath him. “Let go,” he whispers.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There’s a ragged inhale. It takes him a moment to realize it’s not his own, and as soon as he does Green jerks his head up. He blinks wide at the expression on Red’s face and doesn’t notice the movement dislodging a tear.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m -” Red winces, his other hand coming up to rest on Green’s wrist. He looks simultaneously like a mouse backed into a corner and someone trying to coax a scared kitten. He clears his throat cautiously. “I’m sorry.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And Green stares. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe it’s then that it hit him, properly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>That Red is thirteen, for one. Two years younger than him and dealing with the same things. That he’s been blaming a former friend for things beyond his control. That he’s been horribly unfair. That somewhere down the road, his plan to make Red hate him had warped his own feelings about this mess into something ugly, terrifying, and unrecognizable.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Petrified, he lets go of Red’s shirt and accidentally stumbles back, almost hitting his head against the wall.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sorry,” Green stammers out, horrified, horrified and disgusted with himself. “I’m -”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He would have turned and ran right then, if he’d had the choice. But Daisy had finally caught up to them after chasing them from the meeting room, and she gives them both a firm scolding before noticing Green’s red-rimmed eyes and Red’s messy hair and clothes. With a weary sigh, she sends them back to their rooms and tells them to put themselves together in time for dinner.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Through it all, Green feels numb.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A month later, Crown Prince Red leaves his kingdom for the mountains and their legends and dangers, and Green doesn’t hear from him for years.</em>
</p><p><br/>---</p><p><br/>Green has not had an incredible childhood.</p><p>His parents died when he was young, his grandfather never truly had time for him or Daisy due to his responsibilities ruling over a nation, and Green was constantly sent to boarding academies throughout his youth because his grandfather figured it’d give him better human contact than staying in the castle with rotating tutors.</p><p>There aren’t many consistently happy memories of his time there, but his castle is still home. It’s the place he’d grown up in, the place he’d shared with Daisy ever since he could remember, and the only place that he holds any recollection of his parents in.</p><p>And he’s going to have to leave it all.</p><p>The thought is sudden, but it leaves him wanting to keel over. He’d been preparing for it the past few months, sure, as his grandfather got ready to step back from the throne and let Daisy take over, as pressure mounted on all sides for both him and Red to do as their parents had planned for them since their birth. But here, surrounded by the people he’ll soon have to face every day, by a castle that still feels foreign to him, by something he can’t call home, Green finds that maybe he hadn’t been prepared at all. </p><p>The hollow in his chest caves in.</p><p>With one last glance at Red, surrounded by his friends and nobles, Green slips away to the balconies. The sun has long since set, and the skies are tinged violet at the horizon, drenched with impending midnight blue. Out here, the breeze is refreshing, cool against his flushed skin, and more than anything, gives him space.</p><p>Green leans over the rails, exhaling long and slow. In the quiet of evening, no witness but the stars and moon, he closes his eyes and tilts his head back, pretending he’s somewhere else. </p><p>It never really works, but it helps, a little, pretending his world doesn’t exist.</p><p>And then he opens his eyes and sees a shadow next to him. Green has to claw his heart back into his throat, fingers gripping white-knuckled over the rails in his surprise. He hates that he knows who this is just from the outline of their shadow.</p><p>“You might actually give me a heart attack one day,” Green says through his wildly beating heart, shooting Red a look. He hopes it’s not too obvious he was just about to have one. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>To his credit, Red has the decency to look slightly sheepish. “You normally stay inside.”</p><p>It's not a real answer, and they both know it. Green wants to be exasperated; he’d been better at reading between the lines when they were little, but with years of distance and strained formalities between them, his guess is as good as anyone else’s. </p><p>There's a brief thought that Red might have been worried, but Green doesn't entertain it for long. He doesn't ask, either, tempted as he is to pry, ask why Red noticed, why he’d gone out of his way to follow him out.</p><p>Instead, he turns back to look over the balcony rails, leaning on it with both his elbows. He tries not to pay much mind to how close Red is - enough to feel his body heat, the air around them stifled by a heavy, suffocating weight that’s been around since they were children. He can feel Red fidgeting and almost pities him; he seems uncomfortable with the silence, this strange atmosphere, but for once Green doesn’t want to open his mouth.</p><p>Red fidgets some more. Green drums his fingers over the marble, and wonders what he’s doing. What they’re both doing. </p><p>Eventually Red asks, quietly, “Do you hate this that much?” </p><p><br/>---</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Green shouts at nothing all the way up Mount Silver, and then some.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The winds are horribly cold. The snow is even colder, and wet. It’s all biting, bitter, and his mood is more or less the same. He shouts into the bleak grey landscape all the obscenities he could never utter at Red within the walls of either of their castles, knowing he’s only draining his own energy and not giving a shit. </em>
</p><p><em>Fuck Red. </em>Fuck <em>Red. </em></p><p>
  <em>What kind of crown prince disappears for three years up a mountain range without so much as a letter to say he’s still alive?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And of course Green is the one going to look for him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fuck Red.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What’s even more annoying is the fact that when Green finally finds Red, it’s only because the other boy chooses to show himself. It feels like he’s lost, even though this was never a competition to begin with. At least, it shouldn’t have been. What would it have been for even if it was? Who can hurt the other more in fewer words?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What the fuck were you thinking?” Green demands, shaking Red by the lapels of his shirt. Not ten minutes ago he’d woken up in a cave with no memory of having closed his eyes. He doesn't really care how he got here, when he passed out in the snowstorm. All he knows is that before then, before the moment he opened his eyes and met crimson ones looking over at him in concern, there had been a chance that Red was - </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fuck you,” Green spits. “Fuck you ten times over. Fuck you. We thought you were, I thought you had -”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Red says nothing. Green looks at him, wonders why the hell he feels so lost. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re gonna come down,” Green says. His fists are trembling, voice just as shaky. "You're gonna come down from this cold, shitty mountain, and you’re gonna apologize to your mother and never pull this shit again.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Red blinks. It’s slow. “You want that?”</em>
</p><p><em>Green gapes. “The fuck - what else would I want? I thought you might be </em>dead<em>.”</em></p><p>
  <em>He’d thought Red might be gone forever, dead or alive, in a place no one could reach him again. And he knows it would have been his fault.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Red doesn’t reply, but something in his expression seems to settle. He doesn’t apologize, either, and Green doesn’t really care as long as he agrees to come down with him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He can’t say he'd deserve it anyway.</em>
</p><p><br/>---</p><p><br/><em>Hate this.</em> The words are still ringing in his ears as Green turns to look at Red, bewildered. </p><p>He’s not confused about the question itself - there’s only one thing Red could possibly be asking about, what he’s referring to when he says <em>this</em>. No, what he’s baffled about is why Red is asking, why he sounds almost sad asking it.</p><p>“Don’t you?”</p><p>It’s thrown out as a way to deflect, but it’s a genuine question, beneath the surprise. Does Red not mind the contracted vows between them? </p><p>Red doesn’t reply here, either. But he shifts, slightly, turning back to glance into the ballroom when the orchestra starts a different song. It’s one they’re both intimately familiar with; the song of the royals. No one is to dance but the royal family and their chosen partners during this particular number, which means that back in Green’s castle, his grandfather and Daisy would none too subtly push them to dance together. Here, with neither of them breathing down their necks, Red would spare him from the tradition and let the floor stay empty, and Green would pointedly ignore the derisive glances of the nobles around him.</p><p>It’s how they’ve always functioned, after all, dancing around each other and the conversations they should have had years and years ago. </p><p>Green listens to the first few notes, the beginnings of a sweet melody echoing through the night air. When he was younger, his mother had taught him the dance and during formal balls, he’d stumble around the room with Daisy while their parents smiled at them. After their deaths, he and Daisy had stopped dancing to the music, and Green had fully intended on never doing it again.</p><p>He turns back to see Red watching him.</p><p>“What?” Green snaps, startling at the attention. He feels defensive for a reason he can’t name, and he almost flinches when Red moves, not knowing what to expect.</p><p>Only to still when he sees Red’s outstretched hand.</p><p>He looks up at Red with his heart - and probably his stomach - in his throat. Looks down again at the hand, waiting. Unwavering. Then back up.</p><p>“We never dance here,” Green says, voice strangled. They’re not even on the dance floor. </p><p>Red just tilts his head, still waiting, and Green feels like he’s drowning.</p><p>This is the first time in a decade or so that they’ve broken the routine, forged over one-sided hostility and confusion and an utter lack of communication. There’s so much running through his head; alarm sirens, shock coursing through his veins, a paralyzing fear of this change. And, despite it all, a spark of something else.</p><p>Hesitant, wary, Green reaches out.</p><p><br/>---</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Red’s hands are ice.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Green should be used to this by now, the adventures and exploits and dangers Red has sought out the past few years always ending with this - a fever that doesn’t go away for a solid week and only breaks once Green is half sure that this is finally the one that’ll kill Red for good. He looks down at Red, shivering even though he’s swamped by the thickest blankets, and thinks that he should have seen this coming since Mount Silver.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’d been a dragon this time. A neighboring kingdom had been terrorizing it and gotten terrorized by it in return, and Red had gone up that mountain, calmed it down, and returned with a small, content smile two seconds before collapsing in Green’s arms. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And now they’re here.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Despite the abnormally high fever and flushed skin of his face, Red’s hands are as icy as the mountains he’s scaled to get this goddamn sick. Green knows that his hands have been cold since they were little, but what he’s holding onto now is an ice block shaped into human anatomy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is this what you wanted?” Green asks, at one point. “Your fingers turning into icicles?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There’s no response from Red, and Green wants to kick him anyway.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, fuck you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He wonders, sometimes, what drives Red to go on those journeys. Why he feels the need to disappear once in a while. Wonders, too, what role he plays in it all. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The answer he’s too scared to ask for is probably what keeps him here. The maids had all given up trying to pry him from the beside after the first day or two, and Green knows, logically, that Red will be fine regardless of who’s the one nursing him. He also knows that this is, in some ways, his own way of apologizing for the shit he’s done to Red as a child, and tells himself he’s not being a coward, that he isn’t running away. His lies aren’t believable even to himself, but he’s far past the point of caring.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Green tightens his grip on Red’s hand. He hopes Red feels his irritation even in the fever haze he must be in, hopes the dragon was worth the emotional rollercoaster he’s sent the rest of them on for the - what is it, twentieth time? It’s infuriating enough that he’s lost count.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m going to strangle you as soon as you wake up,” Green says to Red’s sleeping form, bleary and tired, “D’you just like making me worry?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Exhaustion winning out, Green pillows his head in his free arm, watching Red’s chest rise and fall. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Wake up soon.”</em>
</p><p><br/>---</p><p><br/>The way they fall into step is natural, easy. </p><p>Green lets himself be pulled closer without question or protest, lets Red lead him through the motions as the music swells. A step here, a spin there. They’ve danced to this song countless times before, but here in the balcony, surrounded by night and no one else watching them, it feels different. And maybe it is. It’s the first time they’ve danced simply because one of them asked, not because it was expected of them. The first time in a long, long time, that Red reached out and Green didn’t run away.</p><p>Maybe, maybe he doesn’t have to, anymore.</p><p>“Hey, Red.”</p><p>Green isn’t looking at his face, but he feels Red stiffen slightly, though he can’t tell for what. Anticipation for what he might ask? Or, the fact that Green called him by name? He can’t remember the last time he had.</p><p>“Do you not hate this?”</p><p>Red only needs a moment this time before he shrugs one shoulder. <em>No</em>.</p><p>It’s not exactly a surprise, but Green still isn’t expecting it.</p><p>“Why,” he asks, as Red spins him around to the music.</p><p>Red has every reason to hate this just as much as Green had when he was younger, if not more. Why wouldn’t Red hate the thought of being married to him? His name alone carries power and legends. If he wanted, he could get anyone in the world. </p><p>Red shrugs again, glancing down. Green bites the inside of his cheek.</p><p>“Can I ask one more question?”</p><p>A raised eyebrow. It seems to be asking, <em>since when have you needed permission? </em></p><p>He hasn’t, so he asks it anyway.</p><p>“Why’d you go up Mount Silver, that first time?"</p><p>Red pauses completely. The orchestra is still playing; a gentle, lulling song, at odds with the off-beat stutter of Red’s heart that Green can feel through his shirt. He can’t pull away much with Red’s hand still on his waist, but Green tilts his head back, needing to see Red’s eyes for this.</p><p>“Red?”</p><p>The other prince hesitates for a long time, silent, before he continues the dance slowly.</p><p>"It wasn't purely because of you, if that's what you're asking," Red says quietly. "But a part of me did wonder if it'd finally make you look at me again."</p><p>Green swallows. Truth. How long has this been? How long?</p><p>His own words slip out before he can catch them. "I never stopped."</p><p>Red blinks at him, stunned. Green knows he's wearing a mirror of the surprise on his face. He doesn't regret it, though, in the aftermath.</p><p>“Can you answer this too, then, honestly?” Red asks, after a moment. His grip might have tightened over Green's waist; neither of them mention it. "Do you really hate this?"</p><p>Green had expected the question to come back to him sooner or later, but it still takes him a moment to open his mouth.</p><p>"No," Green says. He might have, when he was little, terrified at the thought that his own future was out of his hands, no one to blame but the other half of the deal. Not anymore. He looks somewhere over Red's shoulder, gaze unfocused. "Haven't for a while."</p><p>"Then why?"</p><p>Green huffs. </p><p>Red's always done this. His questions are short and vague not just because he prefers curt speech - they're that way because Red purposely leaves an opening, a way out. Green has used it gratefully to slip out of confrontation in the past, but he still doesn’t truly know whether Red does it for Green's sake or his own. Here, too, there are a million ways he can interpret the two words, a million ways he can work around it and the answer he should have given Red so, so long ago.</p><p>But they're both tired now, he can tell. Tired of running, tired of going in circles. It feels pointless.</p><p>"I was scared," Green says. Something in him seems to unravel. "I hated that I felt like I had no control, but I convinced myself I hated you."</p><p>"Did you?"</p><p>He shakes his head and laughs, quietly.</p><p>"Never." The words are spoken almost directly into Red's shoulder. He has no idea when they moved so much closer together, but he finds that he doesn't mind much. "I'm sorry."</p><p>It's too late, too light, to be a proper apology. Green doesn't say it as one, really, just as a start. A promise, that he won't keep running.</p><p>Red, though, must recognize it as such. His breath stutters, and this time he's the one pulling away, eyes searching Green's with a muted desperation, the same kind Green had seen as a child all those years ago. When Red tried to apologize for something that wasn't his fault, tried to hold onto him with shaking hands and a raspy, choked voice.</p><p>Eventually, Red seems to find what he's looking for. He drops his head, dark hair falling onto Green's suit. It can't be very comfortable, with Red being taller than him now, but the way he lets out a long, shuddering breath feels like he's let go of the weight of a world.</p><p>They aren't even dancing anymore. Red is clutching onto the fabric at his waist with shaking fingers, like he might look up and Green will be gone. Green still can't believe that he's been given this, the moon and stars above seeming to smile down at him in the face of forgiveness, something he'd been too afraid to accept before.</p><p>"Tired," Red murmurs, sinking into Green's shoulder. Green lets him. </p><p>It'll take a long time for either of them to mend the wounds. They both know that this single night won't undo the damage of their childhoods, can only do so much as a temporary salve. Still, it's a start, and for now, Green closes his eyes, leaning into Red's arms. </p><p>Everything just feels warm. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this was honestly supposed to be a very, very short ficlet about red asking green to dance and then it turned into...........this</p><p>kudos, comments, bookmarks!! they all make my day, and it'd mean the world to me if you enjoyed this enough to leave any.</p><p>pokemon isn't a main fandom of mine, but pls feel free to talk to me on twitter! I'm <a href="https://twitter.com/lyssa_kei">lyssa_kei</a> on twitter. </p><p>if any of you are my dear subscribers who'd been hoping for an update on The One, well,</p><p>feel free to scream at me on twitter. </p><p>if anyone cares, yes green and red get married and they do fall in love along the way.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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